That night, the sky turned dark. A storm rolled in from the west, thunder rumbling low like a warning.
Savannah sat on the front porch, wrapped in a thin flannel shirt, watching the wind twist through the trees. She heard the door creak behind her.
Jace stepped out, two beers in hand.
He offered her one. She took it.
They drank in silence.
"Why are you really here?" he asked eventually.
Savannah looked out at the fields. "I needed to get away."
"From what?"
"Everything." She paused. "A guy. A job. A life that stopped making sense."
He nodded. "Same."
She looked at him. "What about you?"
"Busted knee ended my rodeo career. Started workin' this ranch full-time. Thought that'd be enough."
"Is it?"
"Not lately."
Lightning flashed. Savannah didn't flinch.
Jace shifted closer, their knees brushing.
"Savannah…"
"I'm not sorry," she said before he could speak. "I know it's wrong. I know it's complicated. But I don't regret a second of it."
His jaw tightened. "That's what scares me."
They stared at each other.
Then the first raindrop hit.
She stood up, stepping into the rain. "Come on, cowboy."
He raised an eyebrow. "What are you doin'?"
"Dancing. In the rain. Unless you're too old for that now?"
He stood and followed, rain soaking through his shirt, darkening his jeans.
She laughed, spinning once in the storm. He caught her by the waist, pulling her close.
And under the downpour, they kissed again—desperate, raw, undeniable.
Clothes stuck to skin. Hands wandered. Her shirt peeled away. His lips found the hollow of her throat.
And right there, in the middle of the storm, he dropped to his knees in the wet grass and worshipped her body like she was the only thing keeping him sane.
Thunder roared.
She cried out his name.
The storm didn't stop.
Neither did they.